


Brush

by youwerefantasticrose



Category: Doctor Who, Roski - Fandom, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwerefantasticrose/pseuds/youwerefantasticrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki helps Rose out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brush

“Bullocks!”

Loki can hear her curse all the way from the living room. He quirks an eyebrow, his eyes lifting from his book, listening. She’s in the bathroom, door closed, but she’s hardly being quiet, slamming things around and muttering under her breath. He goes back to his book, but a moment later she curses again, and this time both eyebrows raise at her choice of words. He sighs, setting his book down and walking over, leaning against the wall outside the door.

“Rose?”

“What?” she barks, and he smirks a little at her annoyance.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yes, fine,” she mutters. “It’s nothing.”

He makes to go back to the living room, but she whimpers a bit, and he’s back at the door, smile gone.

“Rose, let me in.”

“No.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Rose.”

The door opens a little, and he steps in cautiously, steam pouring out of the room. She’s in her dressing gown, glaring at the mirror, her hair wet and tangled. One hand rests on the counter, wrapped in bandages, and she holds the other awkwardly against her body.

He’s by her side in an instant, reaching for her bandaged hand and lifting it gently.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she grumbles. “Just some trouble at work.”

“Your other arm too?” he asks.

“‘S nothing,” she says, pulling her hand away with a wince. “Just having some issues with the cannon.”

His eyes darken and she looks away. She picks up the hairbrush on the counter.

“I can manage,” she says.

He looks at the brush in her hand and then to her tangled hair, putting two and two together.

“Give it to me.”

“What?” she asks, surprised. 

“The brush,” he answers, holding out his hand. “Give it here.”

“I can do it, Loki,” she answers stubbornly, looking away. She lifts it up to her head, grimacing.

She manages one stroke through her hair, her teeth clenched against the pain in her arm.

“See?” she breathes out with difficulty.

“Rose.”

She looks at him, and his eyes are knowing and soft, and, well, if he’s offering…

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Here.”

She hands him the hairbrush, and turns around, her back to him. He moves in close behind her, gently lifting her hair off of her shoulders. She shivers a little as his fingers graze the back of her neck, and she ducks her head, hiding a blush. He runs the brush through her hair smoothly, taking his time, gently untangling the knots in it.

She closes her eyes, letting out a sigh. He watches her in the mirror, smiling a little as he sees her relax. He spends much longer than necessary on her hair, brushing it over and over until it’s shining, catching the light, and he could look at it, at her, for hours, he thinks. Finally he makes himself stop, placing the brush gently on the counter. Her eyes stay closed, and he reaches up slowly, running his hand softly over her hair, eyes on her face in the mirror. She sighs, leaning into his touch, and he continues, fingers running through her still-damp hair. She hums in contentment, then opens her eyes. In the mirror she sees him behind her, looking at her in a way that makes her heart skip a beat. She looks away, and he stops, his hands falling to his sides.

She turns toward him, and he’s very close, she notices with a swallow, and she tries to stop the blood from rising to her face, but she can’t.

“Thanks,” she says softly. He looks down at her, reaching up and moving a strand of hair behind her ear with a soft smile. 

“Anytime.”


End file.
